


Doll's Eyes Pastries

by ang3lba3



Series: A Game of Dragons and Wolves [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Game of Thrones Fusion, M/M, Pack Mother Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 07:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3520112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ang3lba3/pseuds/ang3lba3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Stiles meets Laura, the dragon eggs get interesting, and Derek is bad with feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doll's Eyes Pastries

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crossroadswrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossroadswrite/gifts).



Stiles woke to a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach and the sound of knocking. He groaned, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Come in.” he croaked.

The room was silent, and when he didn’t hear the swish of the tent flap he turned to stare at it. It swayed a little in the breeze.

Then the knocking came again. Only it wasn’t coming from the direction of the entrance it was - holy fuck, it was coming from-

“Mom?” Stiles squeaked, staring down at the egg named after his mother. The tapping sound came again, the egg rocking a little on the bed.

“Oh my Gods, so this is - this is happening.” he sucked in a frantic breath before reaching out hesitantly to touch it. When his hand connected the scaled surface was warm, far too warm when you considered it had ended up on the other side of the bed and outside of the blankets.

“I need-” Stiles wracked his brain before he remembered that Allison and Lydia’s tent was right next door and they were like, legally obligated to come when he yelled for them. Or something. He tried not to think about their technical slave status too hard. “Allison! Lydia!”

Usually they would have ignored him, sauntered in ten minutes later like it had been their idea from the first. But something about the sheer panic in his voice tipped them off to it being important they show up, and they burst into his tent moments later.

“What’s wrong?” Allison asked, running towards him and inspecting him quickly.

“I- please tell me you can see that too.” Stiles said, pointing towards the egg. It rolled toward him, and he could have sworn it looked _proud._

Allison frowned, hesitantly reaching out to touch it. When she did she pulled her fingers back immediately, yelping and running to shove them into the pitcher of water on Stiles’ nightstand. Stiles squinted and picked up the egg. It was exactly as hot as it was before - which was to say not very.

“Stiles, put that down, it’ll burn you!” Allison yelled, making a motion like she was going to wrestle it out of his hands.

“It’s not even hot.” Stiles argued, clutching the egg closer.

“I guess what they say in the Seven Kingdoms is true, then.” Lydia said, striding closer to peer at the egg.

“What do they say?” Allison asked, still staring at where Stiles was holding the egg.

Lydia grinned at Stiles, soft lips stretching over rounded teeth in an all too sharp smile. “Fire can’t kill a dragon.”

-

Stiles stared at where he was clutching an ember. It felt like a piece of charcoal warmed by the sun, not like he pulled it out of a firepit three minutes ago.

“How did we not notice you could do this before?” Scott asked. He’d showed up around the time Mom had quieted down and the gold one - John, his Dad, whatever - started acting up. Melissa’s bratty phase was much shorter in comparison, and now there was only the occasional thump from them.

“Well, we sort of did. You always thought it was weird I never burned my tongue.” Stiles pointed out.

“He was mostly jealous.” Allison said. Scott started to protest, but halfway through beginning to talk he made the mistake of glancing at her. He lost his train of thought completely and Stiles rolled his eyes.

Stiles set the ember back in the fire, rubbing his hands on his jeans - wonderful, durable trousers that he hadn’t seen since he was back home.

“Okay, enough of this.” Stiles said. “I’m pretty sure that if I don’t talk to Laura soon she’s going to get tired of waiting and come kill me for not showing the proper respect or something.”

“It would be within her rights if you fuck this up too badly, yes, but I don’t think she would do it. Attacking someone’s mate is… inadvisable.” Lydia said.

“Great.” Stiles said. “With that encouraging piece of advice can we have breakfast and then talk about how to-”

Which, of course, was when Laura walked into his tent holding a satchel that smelled like pastries.

“I need to talk to Stiles. Leave.” Laura said, and the words sent everyone moving quickly out of the tent - even Lydia, who usually operated on cat logic.

She tossed the bag at Stiles, who barely managed to catch it - a few pastries fell onto Melissa and Mom. Stiles used his flailing to cover up the way his hand slipped down to his foot and rested on the hilt of the wolfsbane infused knife he kept strapped to his calf.

“He-y.” Stiles said, voice shaky and the word drawn out. “It’s great to see you-”

“I can hear it when you lie.” Laura said flatly. She leaned into his space threateningly. “Now. Why is my brother so upset?”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked.

He had no idea why he ever thought the eyes flashing color was just a weird genetic trait - right now it was painfully obvious that there was nothing human in the way Laura’s eyes flashed blue. He coughed nervously, using the noise to disguise the sound of the dagger leaving its sheath.

“He went to see you and came back stinking of panic and depression.” Laura leaned in closer, enough that Stiles could almost taste her breath. He could definitely smell it (mint).

_Great._ Stiles thought. _I literally made someone depressed over almost touching my dick._

“Tell me what happened.” she growled.

Yeah, his dignity - if he had any in the first place - and the continuation of the lie that Derek was fucking him was not _quite_ worth his life.

“We’re not having sex.” Stiles said.

Laura wrinkled her nose, leaning back a little. “But you smell like -”

“I’ve been rubbing his jizz all over me? Yeah, I kind of have been.” Stiles sighed and tried not to sound too bitter. “He doesn’t want me, okay, says something happened when he was younger. And it’s embarrassing that I can’t get laid with someone who is under contract to consummate a marriage with me, so we’ve been exchanging things of jizz to make it smell like we’re… yeah.”

Laura leaned back completely, looking even angrier than before as she flopped onto the floor. It didn’t seem to be directed at Stiles any longer, but he kept his grip on the knife just in case.

“He’s a fucking idiot, you couldn’t kill one of us if you _tried.”_ Laura said.

Stiles very wisely did not argue that yes, he most certainly _could._

“Sorry for threatening you. Der - well, he doesn’t have the best track record in choosing partners.” Laura grabbed a few cushions settled herself more comfortably. “He probably feels like he’s taking advantage of you or something. You’re only here because you were desperate for an army, and you’re young enough he feels gross about wanting to screw your brains out.”

“I’m _nineteen.”_ Stiles protested. “He’s what, twenty five?”

“No way are you nineteen.” Laura scoffed.

“Pretty sure I am.” Stiles said. “I know my youthful features and slender stature mislead-”

“You look half starved and have the face of a child.” Laura corrected.

“Yeah, well, magic eats up a lot of calories.” Stiles snapped.

“Magic?” Laura asked, suddenly interested. “You’re a magic user?”

“How do you not know this?” Stiles said.

“How did you not know we were werewolves?” Laura countered.

“Fucking Deaton.” Stiles muttered.

Laura snorted, hand darting out to grab one of the pastries.

“Yeah, and who brings pastries to _threaten_ someone?” Stiles asked, grabbing one too.

“Oh, don’t eat that!” she said, slapping it out of his hand. At his righteously offended face she just sighed. “It’s poisonous.”

“You’re eating it!” Stiles spluttered.

“I like the taste of doll’s eyes berries and, bonus, they won’t kill me.” Laura took another bite before grinning. “Spicy and sweet.”

Deaton once treated a small child who had eaten some. The inside of her mouth and throat were blistered.

“I think I love you.” Stiles said admiringly.

Laura snorted. “Thanks.”

She finished up her food, licking her fingers off the frosting. “Well kid, I’m gonna go talk to my brother now.”

“Laura.” Stiles said, catching her before she started to get up. She raised an eyebrow. “Just tell him to come talk to me, please?”

Laura gave him a long look, studying him. Stiles wondered what he must look like, and whatever it was must have passed muster because she nodded at him and left the tent much less dramatically than she’d entered it.

-

Derek didn’t come talk to him, the eggs continued to move, and Stiles grew more and more distracted.

Fine, if Derek wouldn’t come talk to him, he’d go to Derek.

Lydia (strongly) advised against seeking out the Alpha on his own, something about proper protocol, but Stiles was beyond giving a shit. For the first couple months of marriage the Denmother was supposed to let the Alpha come to them and not the other way around. Stiles still wasn’t sure why, and when Lydia just shrugged and said that’s always how it was, Stiles rolled his eyes.

He was never very good at letting things stay how they always were.

“Erica, where’s Derek?” he asked when she walked into his tent, not even letting her fully close the flap.

She raised an eyebrow but answered, and Stiles loved her a little bit more for it. Lydia and Allison had just said it was a bad idea and they wouldn’t aid him anytime he asked.

“He’s in his tent.” she leaned forward. “Wait, are you going to go see him?”

Stiles nodded decisively. “Damn straight.”

“Sweet.” Erica grinned. “I’m too pretty for him to kill, I’ll take you.”

“You’re my favorite.” Stiles said sincerely, threading their fingers together.

Erica laughed. “Better not let the Alpha hear you say that.”

“The Alpha can go fuck himself.” Stiles muttered.

Erica laughed again, harder.

To Stiles’ great surprise, Derek’s tent was right beside his. He went pale when he realized that if Derek listened carefully enough, he would be able to hear all the things Stiles said when he was in bed with a hand wrapped around his cock and fingers up his ass. He’d never seen Derek going into the tent, and it wasn’t nearly as opulent as Stiles’. It looked more plain and functional, big enough to fit the pack but just _barely._

It was strange that he’d never seen Derek when he was wandering around for fresh air, and it occurred to him for the first time that there was probably a reason for that. Derek had been avoiding him.

It just made Stiles angrier, even though he knew that someone spouting off sexually explicit fantasies while jerking off had to be uncomfortable to hear. Especially when the sexually explicit fantasies were about the person hearing them.

Oh God. No wonder Derek never wanted to see him. Derek must have felt violated or something - but then what the hell was with the.. the _touching?_

__

Only one way to find out.

He’d been standing at the entrance to Derek’s tent for too long now, and there was nothing for it but to go in, and so he did.

He regretted it immediately and almost walked back out - Derek had his shirt off, only in his underwear as he wiped himself clean with a rag. Stiles choked on his own breath, and Derek glanced up, dropping the cloth when he saw Stiles was standing there.

“You’re not supposed to do that!” Derek finally said indignantly.

“Do what?” Stiles asked, too entranced by the sight of all that bare skin to breathe, much less start his rant.

“Be here.” Derek said, stepping forward aggressively. He growled his next words. “You should leave.”  
  


Stiles rolled his eyes, his natural annoyance at being commanded to do anything breaking the spell of rippling muscles. “Yeah, sure, I’ll get right on that. Wait, no I won’t, because I haven’t seen you in two weeks after _you_ groped _me.”_

“That was a mistake.” Derek said harshly.

“Damn straight it was.” Stiles said sharply. “I was dealing before that. I didn’t like it and I wasn’t happy that someone who legally _has_ to sleep with me wouldn’t, but I was being respectful. You doing that? So far from respectful, dude. Leading me on isn’t fucking cool, okay? And then just _disappearing?_ What are you, thirteen?”

“You’re the only child here.” Derek said, face cold.

Stiles snorted. “I’m nineteen. I’ve killed men, I’m more kick ass with magic than Deaton, and he was one of the most powerful sorcerers in the Seven Kingdoms. If you think I am _anything_ but your equal, you are wrong.”

 

Derek stared at him, stunned, and it really would have been the perfect time to make a dramatic exit, but Stiles wasn’t here to win. He wasn’t here to have the last word. He was here to work this the fuck out.

-

“And then he shoved past me and ran out of the tent!” Stiles told Mom and Melissa. Dad had almost rolled off the bed so he was on the floor, bumping happily against Stiles’ pacing feet. “The hell am I supposed to do with that? I’m trying to make this relationship work, because it _has_ to.”

He flopped bonelessly backwards onto the bed, legs hanging off, foot absently stroking Dad’s shell.

“It has to.” he whispered quietly.

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr at [this gorgeous blog ;)](ang3lba3.tumblr.com)


End file.
